Wickets and Whites
by Jayneysuk
Summary: At the annual cricket match Isobel finds herself a little distracted. This is the result of reading a particular article and a chat with L&H. Harmless nonsense and suggestion. A one shot.


This is what you get when you come across an article on cricket on Downton, get into a conversation about underwear or the lack of and want to give a friend a small token of thanks.

Hope you like.

Wickets and Whites

The whole village had turned out for what had become an annual event, the ladies dressed in the Sunday best, the men suitably attired for a sporting afternoon, the children long since disappearing to the other end of the green to entertain themselves. The sun, which had been elusive at the start of play, was now high in the sky, turning the air humid, causing the ladies to seek out shade where they could. A ripple of applause reverberated through the audience as the umpire called tea and the men in their whites strode off the pitch and headed into the pavilion.

Isobel watched from her position on the terrace, the heat long since sending her into hiding and wishing she had worn something more delicate. With a china cup in one hand, and the other shielding her eyes from the intense light she followed their progress across the green. She wasn't a particularly keen follower of the game but had attended because it was expected of her, although the afternoon's proceedings so far had proven entertaining. As she watched the team from Downton jog between the two wooden stumps, she had concluded that there was something rather attractive about a man in clean crisp whites running. Or maybe, she mused, it was the fact one particular man had been selected to take part. While the shirt and pullover were loose and ill fitting, his trousers clung to the muscles of his bottom as he ran and she had remained transfixed, to the point that she'd had to turn away to conceal the deep red hue that flushed her cheeks. The view as he ran back the other way brought forth another blush, and an image of him, asleep in her bed, with nothing but a white sleep draped across his middle, sprang to mind.

She closed her eyes and tried to think about anything but him. The problem was the more she tried to forget about him the more he seemed to invade her mind. Failing miserably and not wanting to draw attention to herself, she opened her eyes, a small smile crossing her lips as she heard footsteps approaching.

"Good afternoon, Mrs Crawley," he said softly, coming to a halt, his hand falling on the balustrade beside her, his body barely inches behind her.

"Good afternoon, doctor," she said, her voice catching at his proximity, the woody aroma of his cologne making her giddy. "Well done."

He chuckled lightly, his breath brushing against the tendrils of hair spilling forth from her hat, sending a chill through her. "I was run out."

She turned, a genuine smile on her lips. "But you looked so handsome doing it."

His cheeks took on a crimson hue as their eyes met briefly. "You were somewhat distracted again, weren't you, my darling Isobel," he whispered against her ear. "Maybe you should concentrate on my hands next time."

As much as she tried Isobel couldn't contain the small moan that escaped her lips. His hands were even more distracting than the image of his naked body. She could hardly forget that his hands drifted to parts of her in the middle of the night that had long been ignored. "Are you to take a turn at bowling?" she asked, struggling to keep her tone neutral in the spite of her sudden arousal.

Richard shook his head, taking a measured step backwards, putting a polite distance between them, least someone should witness the suggestive interplay between them. "His Lordship is up first, then Matthew. I have been relegated to the out field."

"Something you did, my darling?" she asked, a little bemused.

"My delicate hands." He lightly brushed his fingertips along her arm as if to demonstrate the point. "We don't want them getting damaged. Hopefully I will be far enough away not to have many catches."

"Does this mean I will have to borrow Cousin Cora's binoculars to watch you in action?"

He lowered his voice, leaning in conspiratorially. "If you can wait until tonight, you may become even more acquainted with me in action."

The flush that had been slowly dissipating from her face, came rushing back, completely covering her chest and edging up her neck. "You are positively incorrigible," she weakly chided.

"I can only hope," he declared, arching his eyebrows mischievously.

She giggled ridiculously, swaying slightly as she resisted the urge to lead into his chest. She couldn't remember exactly when she fell in love with him but the fact he made her laugh was definitely one of the reasons why. They laughed, they flirted and they made love; it was so much more than she had expected, but it brought new meaning to her life, made her feel like the young girl she wished she was.

Matthew stepped out onto the terrace and glanced around, finally catching sight of his mother deep in conversation with the doctor. She was laughing at something the doctor said and he in turn was chuckling away. It wasn't the first time Matthew had witnessed such an exchange between them, but generally in public they tried to be more reserved, and less obvious in their feelings. Perhaps it was the weather or maybe they were finally working through the hang ups they held but they seemed not to care who saw them. It was refreshing and made him happy. Grinning, he walked the few feet towards them. "There you are mother. Doctor," he added with a nod.

"Matthew," Isobel greeted warmly.

"Are you quite well, mother? You look a little flushed."

Richard turned away, concealing the smirk that threatened to engulf his face and bring the wrath of Isobel upon him.

"It's the heat."

"Maybe you should come inside, sit down for a while," Matthew suggested with mock concern, all too aware of the effect the doctor had upon his mother. If anything it made him long for the same reaction from his own wife.

She batted him away with her hand. "I'll be fine. Great innings, my darling boy."

Matthew shared a knowing look with the older man. "God knows I've tried but I don't think my mother will ever understand the finer points of cricket."

"You didn't think to start with the scoring," Richard snarked.

"It was when I got to LBW that she glazed over and I suggested maybe we stick to tennis."

Isobel lightly hit her son and glared at her lover. "I am standing here, baring the brunt of your observations."

"I'm sorry, mother," Matthew said, seemingly chastised. "It's just that we're losing, rather badly, I'm afraid."

"But you all look so fine doing it," she countered, "And it is the taking part that matters not the wining."

"Maybe you could mention that to Cousin Violet," Matthew mused, "If her steely glares are any indication I think Cousin Robert and I are in for quite the dressing down."

She had chosen that particular moment to sip her tea and spluttered rather unladylike at the image that spilled from her sub consciousness.

"Are you alright?" Matthew asked patting her back and furrowing his brow in concern.

"It just went down the wrong way." She dabbed at her lips and wondered how she was ever going to live down the smirk on Richards face.

Matthew looked back towards the open door of the pavilion. "Well if you're sure. The ladies are laying out the tea."

Isobel patted his arm in reassurance. "I'll be along myself shortly."

Matthew leaned in and lightly brushed his lips over her cheek. "Well in that case I am going to head back in and help myself to some sandwiches." He looked between them and rolled his eyes when he noted they were gazing at each other again with equally happy grins, oblivious to his presence.

Richard waited until they were alone again before he stepped forward and closed the distance between them. "What an earth has gotten into you this afternoon?"

"I really couldn't tell you," she laughed. "Maybe it's the heat, or maybe I need something to eat. Or maybe it has more to do with you in those whites." She allowed her eyes to drift down the front of his shirt, then back up to his face. "You really do look quite dashing."

"If I'd known they would have quite this effect on you I would have worn them sooner," he said with a grin. "Would you like me to keep them on for later?"

"How long is later, by the way?" she asked with a groan. Play had only just stopped for tea and she sensed that her carefully planned evening was liable to be severely delayed.

"That would depend on how quickly His Lordship can bowl them out." At the look of confusion on her face he smiled. "I will endeavour to catch every ball."

"Good. Shall we join the rest of the team and take afternoon tea?"

"Yes, let's." He placed a hand gently on her lower back, splaying his fingers to stroke her skin through her dress, guiding her inside.

As they reached the door, she hesitated, turning slightly to look up at him. "Richard."

"Yes, Isobel?"

"Do be careful when you go for the ball. I wouldn't want you to damage those delicate hands of yours." She gave him a most disarming smile before stepping forward and making her way to the table.

Richard let out a sigh, quickly becoming a groan as he watched as she walked with a deliberate sway to her hips, his mind racing to exactly where he wanted to place his hands later.

She glanced back over her shoulders, a knowing smile twitching at her lips, her eyebrow arched.

For a moment he stared back at her before shaking his head and trotting over to her. Incorrigible he might be, encouraging she definitely was, and he didn't mind in the least.

The End


End file.
